When Home Isn't Sweet Anymore
by theworstisgoingtohappen
Summary: Petunia had had enough. She couldn't bear to live in Britain when the murderers of her sister were still at large. Her son was unsafe, oh, she supposed she could take the freak along, too. An AU where the Dursleys leave Britain for a country far out of the way - or so they think. OR Harry goes to a Indian School Of Magic.
1. Chapter 1

**A.N.: Well, hello…**

**This is actually my third return to this site, with another idea that can be the death of me, and probably won't have time for. Can you blame me though? A writer never really stops, and many hiatuses aside, this is the first Harry Potter fic I'm writing. All the earlier ones were PJO, some TV series's, and a crossover. Here's to hoping that I am able to get in a few chapters before I get bored of this idea.**

**I'm not gonna go into detail, but this fic is basically a brainchild of what I thought of when I discovered that there are almost no fics of the kind I need to read. Same with my earlier fics. I hope you enjoy the product of my brain. If you don't, well, the invitation to adopt this from me still stands.**

CHAPTER 1

The day of thirty-first of October was a day of celebrations for the Wizarding World. Everyone sang praises of the Boy-Who-Lived, who survived an attack by the Dark Lord Voldemort. The wizards rejoiced the fall of this dark creature. No one stopped to pity the little boy who had lost his parents in the fight, nor did they pay any mind to his whereabouts They were more concerned with partying, and did not pay attention to their surroundings.

In one way, it was beneficial to Lady Naraka, Dark Lady of India, currently disguised as a reveler in the Leaky Cauldron. In truth, she was just waiting for someone to turn up – someone who was her only point of contact between her and her boss.

Naraka was in the guise of a redheaded woman, with grey eyes. She had been going for the 'blonde meanie' style, but it didn't suit her. She settled for this.

Soon, though, she heard a heavy plop in front of her. A dishevelled man with stringy hair and dirty clothes had seated himself in front of her. Before she could draw her wand and snap off a Stunner or Cruciatus – she had a reputation to uphold, after all. She wasn't a Dark Lady for nothing - the man's physique shrank, his hair lengthened, and his dirty, matted hair became luscious locks of silver.

'Rangana,' she breathed. 'What do you have for me?'

The beautiful Indian witch chuckled, then deposited some notes on the table. 'Here are the plans for the takeover that Sesha is planning.' Unlike her appearance, her voice was raspy, like a snake. This was clearly no Veela, this was a half Naga. Nagas tended to be beautiful on the outside, yet have all the qualities of a crusty shopkeeper. The more savoury ones behaved like drug peddlers. 'He says that you are to round up any and all Nagajihva to our side. Not complying would be…unpleasant.'

A chill stole its way down Naraka's spine. She knew that the newly vanquished Dark Lord, had been a terrifying creature. She had heard rumours that Sesha had trained Voldemort for some time. That meant that he was even more terrifying than him, and that he would make a good example of her.

Rangana smiled at her look of terror, a snake tongue flashing between her teeth. 'He says that all of the Nagajihva are to report to his base in India. I presume you know the location?'

Naraka shook her head. Her boss was more mysterious than the supposed great wizard Merlin. He had to be, to keep his bloodthirsty minions in line. Oh, if only these Britons knew what dangers lurked in the shadows, waiting to strike out, reined in by the Dark Lords and Ladies of the East!

Rangana passed her a slip of paper. It was in Hindi, their native language. It read,

'_The Den of Snakes is found at 56, Naga Lane, PatalLok, Delhi._'

She felt a buzz of magic as the spell – unknown to her – took hold, imprinting the image of the gateway in her mind.

'I will be waiting. Don't disappoint Sesha, Naraka,' Rangana hissed, before she popped out of existence. A snake slithered away, a symbol on its hood. It slithered out of the pub.

Calmly, yet hastily, Naraka came out into Muggle London. Then, she found a secure alley, from where she Apparated to her private quarters. It seemed that she would need a lot of sleep tonight.

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It was a normal enough morning for Privet Drive, except for the occupants of Number Four. There was a great rush, as Petunia Dursley nee Evans hurried to pack up all their belongings and her husband Vernon Dursley frantically conversed with his boss. All while their son Dudley screamed about food, and an infant was set in a crib in a corner, sleeping.

'Yes, sir- No sir, I'm not leaving Grunnings! I am asking for a transfer to India! I know I'm needed here, but Grunnings has only one branch, and that in India! I have to move sir- no sir-yes sir – no sir-no sir – yes sir-'

'MUMMY, I WANT MY OATS!'

'VERNON, WHERE ARE THE CUTLERY SETS?'

'THEY'RE IN THE CUPBOARD UNDER THE STAIRS- yes sir- no sir-'

Finally, two hours later, an exhausted Vernon and Petunia collapsed into chairs, while their Dudley happily munched on two boxes of oats. The baby in the corner was rudely awoken, bathed, then force-fed some of Dudley's old baby-formula, and put to sleep.

'Petunia, I still don't understand why we have to move to that-that _hovel _of a country.'

'I told you, Vernon! They already murdered my freak sister, what's to say they won't come for us?'

Vernon's face purpled as his eyes fell on the baby. 'And this thing?' he ground out.

Petunia looked at the child with fear and disgust. 'Harry will have to come with us.' She hesitated. 'He might be useful.'

Vernon's eyes gleamed. 'But Dudley comes first, yes?'

Petunia looked at him fiercely. 'Of course, my Dudders always comes first. Now let's catch that flight to India, we don't want to stay here any longer.'

Nodding, Vernon grabbed the huge suitcase and lugged it to the car, while Petunia picked up Dudley and the basket in which the child was snoring. With a longing look at her beautiful house, she left, carrying a small bag of belongings.

The car started up, and rumbled off to the airport.

A tabby cat rounded the corner just as the car disappeared. The cat walked into the house, and inspected all of it, seemingly not finding anything. The cat turned into a woman, who sent out a ghostly version of her other form.

'Albus, they have left the house. Harry is nowhere to be found. Come here at once,' she muttered. The cat sailed away.

The woman stalked outside, and waited.

With a faint pop, a tall man appeared. He had a long white beard, and was dressed in garish purple robes.

'Albus! Those people went away somewhere!' the woman exclaimed. The man frowned, and raised a length of wood. He waved it in a large pattern, and a few numbers and letters appeared. They appeared to be in a different language, yet the man seemed to understand it. He touched one letter, and it presented a script type wall of text that seemed to mean something, for he paled. He waved the wand and a chair popped into existence. He plopped heavily onto it.

'What is it?' the woman snapped. The man looked up wearily, his half-moon glasses flashing.

'The Dursleys have decided that Britain isn't safe for them, so they are moving to…to _India_.'

The woman gasped and collapsed into another chair conjured up. She put her head in her hands. 'What do we do now?'

The man sighed. 'For now, we can only alert Ministers Fudge and Sharma, and I'm afraid that the Wizengamot needs to reconvene. Again.'


	2. Chapter 2

**A.N.: So, this is chapter two. I am aware that many of you are do not know about the timescale of this story, so here it is- At the time of publishing, which I presume to be a week from its writing, I am in the middle of my finals, and most probably won't get time to write any more chapters, so chapter three is going to be the latest in timescale. Full credit to Baconated-Grapefruit on a Discord server, who beta-read the first chapter and this one. Thanks, buddy. Also thank you to MIKE202303 and manny0101 for the reviews. **

**I am also open to accepting betas, so PM me of you wanna beta. **

CHAPTER 2

As a new day dawned on the land of Britain, chaos ensued in the Wizengamot chamber. Witches and wizards, Dark or Light, both scurried around, panicked. In the midst of it all, Minister for Magic Cornelius Aurelius Fudge and Chief Warlock Albus Dumbledore tried to restore order, while a harried Auror Head Amelia Bones rallied her corps to bring peace. Finally, Dumbledore drew his wand and set off a noise and a mass effect spell, that quietened everyone down instantly, even as their mouth gaped pen and closed.

'I will have order in the Wizengamot,' screeched Fudge. 'As Minister for Magic, I demand it!'

'Be aware, Cornelius, that the Chief Warlock is not absent, but here,' said the cool and calm voice of Dumbledore.

Fudge appeared harried and ashamed. His bowler hat was lopsided. 'Yes, of course, of course, Elder Dumbledore.' The man's eyes seemed to narrow over his glasses at Fudge. 'Chief Warlock, I mean,' Fudge corrected hastily.

'Well, this is certainly surprising,' the smooth, accented voice of Deepak Sharma, Minister for Magic of India, made its way into the silent chamber, as he entered it. 'I hope I can be excused quickly. Our Council is deciding on a very important piece of legislation.' His eyes fell on Fudge, who turned red. Sharma's tone hardened. 'We are dealing with the aftermath of our own Dark Lord . I hope business is quick, Minister, because I have a staff, and I'm not afraid to use it.'

Relations between the Indian and British Ministries were shaky, ever since the Muggle Monarchy partitioned India, and the magical government supported the move, citing their disapproval of Eastern countries. A Cold-War like situation had soon developed between them as India developed its resources. Magical Britain was now berating the former Minister who had done such a folly, and if Fudge didn't fix this error, he could see a shut down of labour and foreign students from the East. After all, the Magical Eastern world was as unified as the Light had been in their war against Grindelwald, or even You-Know-Who.

'Y-yes, Elder Sharma,' stammered Fudge, using the title granted by the International Confederation of Wizards to the leader, on occasion of him defeating the previous Dark Lord in China. Eastern wizards considered Sharma to be a sort of Dumbledore of the East. It helped that he had generously stepped down from campaigning for Supreme Mugwump when the ICW appointed Dumbedore.

Sharma nodded curtly and occupied a guest chair he had conjured with his staff. His staff shrunk in his hand to about a twelve inch length of wood, and he raised it in the air.

'Elder Deepak Sharma, Minister for Magic of India, has occupied his seat as a guest to the Wizengamot,' he intoned. His now wand flashed in the air, and the ceiling of the Wizengamot flashed blue, recognizing the guest.

A toady woman beside Fudge twitched. Dolores Umbridge raised her own stubby wand into the air, casting a Lumos spell. 'I have an objection,' she simpered in that sickly sweet voice of hers. 'Why is an…_Eastern_ wizard here?'

Fudge threw her an angry look as Sharma's eyes narrowed. Dumbledore stepped in. 'As Minister for Magic of India, the country which concerns us today, Elder Sharma is required to attend this meeting and apprise us of any new developments.' Umbridge sniffed and sat back down.

'I now yield the floor to Minister Fudge for his announcement.'

Fudge gulped, and stepped onto the dais, prepared to give a hearty shock to the Wizarding public.

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As their flight began, the plane crossing London below them, Vernon relaxed, then tensed up. The…_creature_ with them had started sniffling loudly, and before his eyes, started crying. Loudly.

Petunia attempted to stifle its cries, but it kept bawling, its green eyes open and flooded with tears, its scratch on the head burning an angry red.

Suddenly, as the plane hit a bit of turbulence, a black mist poured out of its scratch-_scar_, Vernon reminded himself. It coalesced into a vaguely human figure, that started screeching. As the plane finally crossed the borders of Britain, the cloud ripped itself apart, and instead poured into the creature's eyes, which turned blood-red. It snarled, sparks arcing around it, clearly fighting something. The eyes flashed between green and red, and suddenly, abruptly, it shot out of the eyes, and attacked a screaming Dudley instead. It entered Dudley's forehead, and his poor boy collapsed.

Petunia was screaming for an attendant, and the flight made an emergency landing at some city, somewhere, neither of them paid any attention to the details. As doctors hurried on board and had a hushed conversation with the parents, no one paid any heed to the slightly sniffling baby, whose scar was now an ordinary scratch. Those who paid close attention to it would realize that its eyes were back to green, and its skin was back to normal colour, though a bit brown. Its hair were now sticking around wildly, and it slowly went back to sleep, eyes moving very rapidly under eyelids.

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	3. Chapter 3

**A.N.: Well, I'm back. Sorry for the inconvenience, but I had exams. Then Class XII started, and then COVID-19 did. At the time of writing this, it is Saturday, soon to be Sunday. Online classes had started for us from 17****th**** March, and thus I wasn't able to write this chapter.**

**My request for beta-readers is still open.**

CHAPTER 3

'Whats wrong with our Dudders?' Petunia Dursley screeched at the medic. He looked particularly irritated.

'Madam, the doctors are currently looking at young Mr Dursley. They will be along shortly.' He said in a strained voice. Clearly, Petunia had been irritating him for a while now. Vernon simply sat on a nearby desk, sweating.

'I WILL SUE YOU! ' he screeched. 'IF MY SON IS HARMED, I WILL SUE YOU AND YOUR BLASTED AIRLINES!'

The baby with them started crying. Petunia huffed, then walked over and smacked the little bundle. The medic looked shocked. 'Madam, he is just a child!' he said, horrified

Petunia huffed again, then forcefully pushed a milk bottle in the medic's hands. 'Feed that-that creature in the cradle,' she spat, moving to sit by her husband's side. The medic complied.

A few hours passed. The doctor came out with a grave expression on his face. Both Dursleys rushed to him, but he held a hand up. 'We had to perform surgery to determine your son's condition,' he said. 'He survived, but we had to remove a part of his brains. Unfortunately, your son has no memories now. He can certainly form new ones, but now he has none of the past.'

Petunia wailed and fainted. Vernon just stood with a look of shock on his face.

Then he turned purple and immediately stormed over to the child. But he didn't get more than a foot in his direction, for some invisible barrier had sprung up. 'LET ME IN!' he roared, as the baby sniffled. With another thump on the barrier, it came down. Vernon looked around wildly and grabbed a sharp needle. He advanced menacingly towards the child, but was grabbed by the airport personnel. He roared 'LET ME AT IT! LET ME KILL THE FREAK!' The male nurses, who were surprisingly burly, grabbed him and hauled him away. He screeched and hurled the needle towards the child. He must have had impeccable aim, for the baby screamed.

At that, a nurse knocked him out, while a female nurse rushed to the child. She gasped, then gently pulled the needle out. The child was crying. She soothed him, whispering words of encouragement to him. Slowly, he stopped crying and went to sleep. She brought him to the doctor, who gasped at what had happened. The bleeding had stemmed, but the child would be impaired. In fact, according to the details presented, young Harry would never be able to see from his left eye again.

Suddenly, the doctor placed the child in a cradle. He turned to a nurse. 'Tell the supervisor that it is a Code M,' he said grimly. The nurse nodded and left. 'All of you, thank you. You may leave.'

Soon, the room was empty, save for the child, the doctor, and the unconscious Dursley couple. He sighed, then brought out a length of wood. He cast a spell, and certain signs and sigils appeared above the child. His face lit up.

At that moment, the supervisor came in. 'What is it, Gideon?' he asked. The doctor turned to the man, grim.

'Supervisor Shacklebolt, this child is magical. And that _Muggle_,' he spat, 'just injured him in the left eye.' The brown skinned man's widened in surprise. He stepped forward, and gently picked up the child.

'What is his name?' he asked softly.

'Harry, Harry Potter,' the doctor replied. 'Maybe it is best if we leave him to the Indian authorities. Harry was, after all, headed there.' The supervisor shook his head.

'Unfortunately, that might not be wise, Gideon. If this child is who I think he is, the Indian Government will hand him over to the British Ministry. Maybe it is best if I adopt him.' He turned to the man, and smiled. 'It's time to free this child from this family.'


End file.
